


Empathy.

by SABATHco



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Comfort, Family, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4254060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SABATHco/pseuds/SABATHco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pressure builds on the Inquisitor, thankfully The Iron Bull is there to comfort him. Comfort, angst, flashback, character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empathy.

Empathy  
  
**Characters: Kaaras Adaar, The Iron Bull  
** Pairing: Kaaras/Bull  
Warning: Contains nudity, adult themes, flashback, angst, comfort   
  
   It was an old enemy, prying and picking at an old wound, attempting to open it. After being in the Fade, deaths had started piling up on the Inquisitor. He’d taken the Wardens in, but that didn’t mean other soldiers hadn’t died after. And more, today, on his behalf. Three soldiers had been killed in front of him by Venatori. He was unable to prevent it, but he still took the blame. It was his duty as a leader.  
   Back at Skyhold, he didn’t have the energy nor drive to say much to anyone else during the evening, and he’d gone to bed early, without any food. Bull had accompanied him, but he said little. The older Qunari at least allowed him to feel at ease. Even if it was the smallest amount.  
   But it lingered, for a long time. He didn’t sleep easily, either. In fact, his dreams were vivid, brought back by the loss of the soldiers beneath his command. He hated it. He didn’t ask to be in this position. He didn’t enjoy knowing that so many lives were in his hands. But it was a burden he took. The mark on his hand was nothing more than a mistake, but did the Maker really align these events? To fall upon him? That was something he thought about every day.  
   But when he lost men, it was a raw and open wound. It would not go away with ease, either. He thought that after a few times of it happening, that he’d just grow a tougher hide and deal with it. They were just men, right? But they weren’t. They were _his_ men.  
   Truth was, death and him were old enemies. An enemy that never left him, and lingered in the back of his mind constantly.  
   The Fade had been some time ago, a couple of months back, so had Alexius. But those deaths he saw? People he cared about? _Bull!_ He saw him die for him. Even not being lovers, the warrior put his life on the line for him, and like a doll he was thrown onto the ground by demons. Leliana, Varric. They all died for him. At least that had not been the future that happened, but he’d still lived it. Everyone else forgot, but he and Dorian would always remember.  
   And then Stroud. Stroud was a good man. A good Warden. The Warden’s needed him, and he’d let him die. There was no easy way of choosing who to stay back, and in the heat of the moment, Warden Stroud found it was the Warden’s duty to save them. But the weight was heavy on his shoulders, and his heart. He _let_ , and basically _chose_ , Hawke to survive over Stroud. And that killed him on the inside to have to make such a horrible choice.  
   When he did sleep, the worst of it came back to him. That cold, dark night…  
  
  _…It was silent in the Adaar home. It was late, and everyone was in bed, except for the man of the house. Anaan Adaar was up, having just checked on the rams. They seemed wrestles, so he thought he’d see what was going on. It appeared nothing was different, so he’d headed back inside._  
   When he closed the door, he felt like something was off. Like someone was watching him. Had the rams been restless because someone was on the property? There was movement from his peripheral vision, and his muscles tensed. The children didn’t play games on him, not like this anyway. No, someone else was here.  
   A scream was soon heard from upstairs, and he ran up them as fast as he could. In a mask, a man stood, a knife to the throat of his wife. She was petrified, and he heard movement from downstairs, another scream—Aith. The bastards had snuck in while he’d been checking on the rams outside. How long had they been watching them? He should have locked the door when he went out!  
  
   “Thought you’d get away, did you, you Qunari scum?”  
  
   The Qun? No. These men weren’t from the Qun. They were just bandits. But bandits could still get their share of money handing in Vashoth for slavery. “Let her go!” he ordered.  
  
   The man laughed, pressing the knife to the darker coloured throat, pressing it but not enough to make it bleed. “Get down there with your freak family.”  
  
   Anaan didn’t disobey. His boy and Aith were down there, too. He did as he was ordered and went down the stairs, the bandit following him, Aban with the knife still against her throat.  
  
   “Anaan, don’t listen to them! They’ll take Kaaras! They’ll re-educate him!”  
  
   “Shut your fifthly mouth, bitch!” The bandit slapped her across the face and tugged on her horn as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Got yourself a whole fucking freak show, don’t you!?”  
  
   “Mum!”  
  
   “Shh, Kaaras, it’s okay, darling,” the woman spoke, her voice shaken though. She was shoved around like she was nothing, despite being taller than every member of the bandits inside their home.  
  
   Anaan had his hands up as another one of the men grabbed him and forced him down onto his knees. “What do you want from us? We don’t have any money… Can’t you see that?” They lived in a torn down house, the only thing giving them money were the rams. He prayed they were not slaughtered at the end of this night.  
  
   “You’re worth a lot more than this house is.”  
  
   Anaan looked to his wife, then to the two children who were being held. An elf and three qunari. “The Qun does not value money. They will give you nothing!” he spat, looking up to the man who had his wife. He was obviously the leader of the band. The mask covered most of his face, just his eyes visible. And they were greedy.  
  
   “Ha! We’re not gunna hand you back to those brutes. You’re gunna be slaves. And your little ones? She’ll be sold as a sex slave. Bet she could get a few men huffing over her.”  
  
   The bandit who held Aith grinned and gave a filthy laugh, his hand going down to her chest and grabbing it, even if it was flat.  At the sight, Kaaras felt his body burn with rage. “Leave her alone!” he barked. There was laughter around the room from the strange men, who he only knew were hostile and putting his family in danger.  
  
   “Don’t listen to them, either of you,” Anaan ordered before the man leant down to his ear, handing the woman over to another one of the bandits.  
  
   “I like your kid. The boy, I mean. He’s feisty. But will he be feisty enough as a dog in a dog fight?”  
  
   Anaan’s jaw went tight. They were not savages! He would not let his wife be killed by such filth! He would not let them take Aith and ravage her more than she already had been. He would not let them take his only son and make him fight against his own kind for petty money and gambling!  
   He moved his elbow quickly, hitting the man right in the neck and knocking him to the ground. The rest all happened so quickly. There were men everywhere, he tried to push his family away from it. In the Qun, he’d learned how to fight, and he was good. He was fast.  
   Blood soon stained the house as he managed to get one of the bandit’s knives and stabbed who he could, yells and screaming ringing through his ears. He was suddenly hit, and he felt the arrow from outside the open door hit him in the shoulder.  
  
   Aith had hid behind Kaaras when the commotion had happened. She’d managed to hit one of the men with a fireball. And then she saw Anaan hit the wall and she was no longer sheltered.  
  
   “No!” Kaaras yelled. He threw a hand forward as the man went towards his father with a knife in his hand. A fireball came from his fist and hit him, knocking him back. Unfortunately, he struck the wall, and the fire grew. He felt his mother grab at him, running towards the door. He tried to take his father’s hand when they were pushed out of the now burning house.  
   “Wait! Dad’s still in there!” he yelled, attempting to pull himself out of his mother’s grasp. He couldn’t just let him stay in there! He’d die!  
  
   “Kaaras! Come on! We have to get out of here!” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to get back to her partner, but Kaaras and Aith were her children. She had to protect them at all costs, and motherly instinct took over her. She could not fight, not like Anaan. Her children could not fight, either. They had their magic, but they couldn’t control it. Her first priority was getting them to safety and away from the burning house and bandits.  
  
   Getting to his feet, Anaan grunted, pushing himself up and out of the house. There were more men, and he could see in the distance that his family were getting safely out of the way. He ripped the arrow from his shoulder and knocked another bandit down that came at him with another blade. A quick kick and he broke his neck beneath his boot as he fell to the earth.  
  
   The whole yard was filled with a red blaze, the house going up. Kaaras’ eyes widened as Aith tried to grab at him. “No!” he called out, pushing both of them off him. He had to save his father! He refused to just let him go.  
   Before him, he saw another arrow puncture his father’s body, this time somewhere in his chest. He fell over and down onto his knees. Kaaras yelled out, his voice breaking in a terrorised scream.  
  
   Anaan’s body was forced forward when another arrow struck. Blood spurted out of his chest and he felt it starting to bubble up his throat. He fell to his hands, coughing and sputtering.  
  
   “Dad!” Kaaras ran, hearing Aith and his mother yell after him. He ran blindly, and got knocked down, one of the bandits tripping him over. He fell with a thud and slid across the grass. The back of his shirt was pulled and he was almost choked.  
  
   “Where do you think you’re goin?” asked the bandit, the bow and arrow now slung over his shoulder. “You’re still worth something, little fighter.”  
  
   Kaaras squirmed in the grip, only stopping when he saw a knife before his eyes, a tattoo on the underside of the arm. His heart pounded in his chest and his hands burned. He’d fallen against the gravel and he was scratched up. But when he heard his dad yell out, he had no choice. He kicked the bandit where it hurt, and the knife went right into the bridge of his nose.  
   He fell, as did the hand around him, and he landed on the dirt with a thud. His nose stung and he could feel it was bleeding, along with where the knife had struck his bottom lip. It was the least of his worries.  
   The bandit was outnumbered, though, as Aith came running over. A fireball hit the floor, but he scrambled and fled the scene. Everyone else was dead.  
   Kaaras ran to his father’s side as he was slumped over, multiple arrows in his chest. “Dad…!” he cried, looking at his father. Blood trickled down his lips, and he looked pale, his breathing shallow. “Please, dad, say something.”  
  
   Anaan coughed, lifting his hand gently to see the blood on Kaaras’ nose. “You’re hurt.” He went into a coughing fit and fell to the floor, the arrows through him tearing into him and making him call out in agony.  
  
   Kaaras put his hands to his father’s body. “Please, don’t go. I-I can help!” He couldn’t just let him die! He put his hands to the wounds and tried to breathe calmly. But he couldn’t. Instead, the healing magic only seemed to cause more pain, his father groaning as his body went into a spasm. “It will work! I promise!”  
  
   But Anaan took Kaaras’ hands into his own. “No…” he breathed, his eyes heavy now. He was fading, and he knew it. Kaaras needed to get out of here. There was no longer a home. “Please look after them for me…”  
  
   Tears glazed the ruby eyes. “No… please no! Don’t go! I’m sorry!”  
  
   Anaan couldn’t hold onto the hands anymore, though. They slipped from his grip, and he felt the last life of him disappear.  
  
   “No!” Kaaras bashed his hands onto the body, shaking him. “Wake up, please!” He put his hands back onto the wounds and tried to heal them, but they only tore more. Why wasn’t it working!? Why couldn’t he heal him!?  
  
   “Kaaras…” Aith’s voice was soft.  
  
   The boy broke down into tears, hugging the lifeless body on the ground. It was his fault. He’d hit the bandit and made the house catch alight. He’d caused the damage and confusion, and they had to flee out into the open. It was his fault the archer had gotten so many shots into his father. And he couldn’t even heal him. He was so overwhelmed, he couldn’t think straight and focus, and all he did was make it worse.  
  
   Leaning down, Adan tried to pull her son away from the body of her lover, her husband, and the father of her two children. Her heart sank when he yelled at her, though, anger and hurt in his eyes.  
  
   “Go away! Don’t touch me!”  
  
   “Kaaras, I’m sorry… You can’t bring him back. You’ve done all you can,” she murmured, her voice shaken. He just cried, though…   
  
   … He hadn’t moved for a long time. How long had it been that he clung onto the lifeless body of his father? He couldn’t remember. It felt like an eternity, and yet not long enough.  
   The Inquisitor had awoken, a tight pain in his chest. He could feel the water in his eyes, ready to erupt any second, but he held it back the best he could. The last thing he needed was others to see him cry. But it hurt. A lot. It always did.  
   When he was younger, and the death was so fresh in his memory, he’d wake from night terrors regularly. He was no stranger to reliving his father’s death. Maybe it was because he was a mage that it was so clear? Sometimes he wished he wasn’t, so he could forget the whole thing. So he could have not made it worse. He destroyed their home, and then he killed his own father.  
   His mother always told him it wasn’t his fault, that the bandits were coming either way. But she did encourage him to use his magic, to learn how to fight back. She never once blamed him, or let him stop practicing his magic. If it weren’t for him, he probably never would have used it ever again.  
   There were times he hated it. He hated the fire, the healing. He refused to heal ever again. The mere thought of it terrified him. He could not be the cause of another death that way. It was why his skills with ice were just about perfect. He wouldn’t burn from rage, and the ice wouldn’t cause a house to burn down. It could melt and wither away. He focussed so hard that something like that would never happen again.  
   Swallowing hard, he raised from the bed, making sure Bull was sound asleep. He could hear the slight snoring, so he moved away freely. He was in pyjama pants, shirtless, as he walked outside and onto the balcony of his quarters.  
   Putting his hands to the railing, he breathed softly, frost coming from his lips as his hands shook. All the death on his mind, it was overwhelming. He’d been thrown into this position with no real time to think about it and the consequences. Of course he took the offer! Everyone, the whole of Thedas, was depending on him. And it was finally starting to catch up with him.  
   He fell to his knees on the balcony, his hands gripping one of the support beams to the railing as he slid down onto the cold stone. He felt warm tears river down his cheeks. To everyone, he seemed so in control, so focused, but he _had_ to be, otherwise bad things would happen. He refused anything else!  
   For once, he just wished to let it all out. Even if it was the magic inside him that needed to release, Maker willing, he wished he could scream and yell, but he didn’t.  
   He couldn’t save his father, and he knew that. But what if he couldn’t save a friend? What if the future he’d seen at Redcliffe had truly happened? What if he and Dorian couldn’t have changed that? And all of his friend had died? Bull…  
   They may not have been in a relationship at the time, but he cared. He always had. And knowing now, that they were lovers, he couldn’t handle the thought if he lost Bull to something like that. Even on the battlefield. He knew he could handle himself, he was a warrior, but it didn’t stop the fear that crept into the back of his mind.  
   He just felt it all well up inside of him, and he couldn’t stop it. Instead of ice gripping the railing, he just let the tears continue rolling. He was just as human as everyone else.  
  
   Inside the Inquisitor’s quarters, Bull shifted, rolling over onto his side. He expected the warmth from his bed partner, but was greeted with an absence of fleshy body to cuddle up to. His eye opened in the darkened room, seeing that Kaaras was nowhere in sight.  
   The bed was still warm, so he hadn’t been gone too long. Perhaps he needed to take a piss. Or maybe he was looking for a midnight snack. He’d gone to bed without eating beforehand. He knew the other qunari was having a rough day, so they didn’t really talk about it. He’d offered to talk about what was on his mind, but Kaaras just shut him out. It didn’t happen often, generally Adaar was very open about how he felt about things, or talked about his emotions. He knew Kaaras was a sensitive man, but that didn’t make him any less of one, he was just open about his feelings. Well… most. If anything, he was blunt as fuck sometimes.  
   Grunting, he pushed himself up. The candles were dim and most of them had drowned in their own wax. But the blinds were open to the balcony, and he saw the half-naked body out there. He instantly removed the blankets to his own fully nude body and pulled the pants on the floor towards him, slipping into them and tying them up.  
   Opening the door, he felt the cold of the stone against his feet. It was freezing out here, even if they were both qunari. “Hey, Kadan, you okay?” Dumb question, he obviously wasn’t. When the hell did Kaaras ever come out here in the middle of the night and sit on the cold floor?  
  
   Kaaras closed his eyes for a moment, wishing Bull hadn’t come out. He didn’t need to see him like this at all. He let the railing go and moved his hand to his face, collecting the tears and clearing his throat a little, as if to keep some dignity.  
   “I’m fine,” he murmured, not facing The Bull. He was the Inquisitor. Inquisitors didn’t cry. He let his arms fall into his lap as he saw Bull crouch down next to him.  
  
   “Bad dream again?” Bull questioned. Kaaras didn’t have them often. It was only about two or three times since they’d been together—which wasn’t a bad track record. But it was enough to know when he’d had a bad sleep. They were usually set on by something that had happened during the day, and with soldiers having died so viciously in front of him… well, it was a trigger, obviously.  
   What he wasn’t expecting was for the other to start sobbing heavily at the question. Cold hands gripped him and made him almost stumble into the Inquisitor. “Hey, you’re gunna throw me off if you’re not careful,” he jested, hoping it would improve the mood.  
  
   He was asked all the time if he was okay. His people cared for him, very much at that! But when he was already so overwhelmed with emotion, it was like it broke a part of him. “I’m sorry…” he breathed, feeling pathetic.  
  
   “Hey now,” Bull muttered, patting the trembling back. He pulled Kaaras’ chin up so he’d look at him. His eyes were glistening with tears, a sight he hadn’t seen before, nose a little red and eyes swollen. After all this time, and being with the Inquisitor, he hadn’t cried once. He hadn’t cracked under the pressure. How he did it, he didn’t know. Even Bull had his limits before he asked himself what was the point. It was why he went to get re-educated. He couldn’t deal with it. Not like Kaaras, anyway.  
   It broke his heart to see him like this, but it also reminded him that it was healthy for Kaaras. He didn’t know who the Inquisitor was before they’d met. What kind of life he’d led. How emotionally stable—or unstable—he’d been. Of course he heard stories and asked about it, but he still wasn’t there to see a first-hand experience. Not like this.  
   “C’mon, you’re gunna freeze your balls out here, and you got good ones, so don’t do that. We can talk inside.” He lifted the mage up and he walked him inside. Already, he could tell Kaaras was pushing the emotional outburst back, though, now that someone knew it had happened. He admired his strength, and how easily he managed to control it.  
   Moving inside, he closed the door and sat him down onto the bed where it was much warmer. He was cold from the breeze out there, and he was damn lucky he went out there before he did something stupid. Like freeze to death.  
   “So, you gunna tell me what’s up?” he asked, Kaaras wiping his face down.  
  
   Suddenly, Kaaras felt like he had to push it all back again. He’d had his outburst and embarrassment, and now it was just awkward and felt stupid. He was a grown man, for Andraste’s sake! He blinked and wiped his nose on the back of his arm.  
   “I’m fine, really…”  
  
   “Oh, yeah, that why you look like a blubbering baby?” Bull teased, poking his belly.  
  
   Despite being so emotionally overwhelmed, Kaaras enjoyed the company, and the more light-hearted side Bull could get out of him. He made a soft and pathetic laugh.  
  
   “Come on,” Bull said, drawing it out as he took the younger man’s hands into his own. “Kadan, you have a lot on your shoulders. Don’t think you don’t need this.”  
  
   “I’m a grown man, Bull.” By now, he’d completely stopped crying and pushed it all back. What little he had released has made him feel a thousand times better, though. Unfortunately, it also left him feeling humiliated in front of his lover.  
  
   “So? Tell me a sad story and I’ll get teary,” Bull stated seriously. “This one time, Stitches was telling me about this family… real long story, though. Anyway,” he said, waving a hand, “by the end of it, I had snot down my chest.”    
  
   Kaaras felt himself smile a little. “You’re bullshitting me.”  
  
   Bull gave a loud laugh. “Shitting you not, boss. Snot. Down my chest. Krem never let me forget it. So c’mon, you wanna talk about it?”  
  
   The Inquisitor shook his head. “It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, Bull. I’d just sound like I couldn’t handle it.”  
  
   “Hey,” this time, Bull took Kaaras’ hands and pulled him a little closer to him, “you can handle anything, Kadan. Look at you. You think one little emotional outburst is gunna set you back to the start? All this time, you’ve made the choices nobody else could. You _are_ the right person for this. Don’t let bad dreams tell you otherwise.”  
  
   “It’s not just the dreams, Bull…” said the mage, his accent soft. “These people die because of me. They fight _for_ me, and in the end, I can’t even protect them—which is what I’m supposed to be doing.”  
  
   “People die, Kadan. You can’t change that. This is war…” Bull was blunt, but his voice was soft, his hand tugging the smaller one gently. “You think people look down at you because some soldiers died? Shit happens. Everyone knew what they were signing up for… well… mostly, I guess the demon-Fade shit wasn’t in the contract, but we all know what is at stake.”  
  
   Kaaras knew that. He knew it was war, but he didn’t grow up thinking like that. Thinking that people would die beneath him. The first time that responsibility came upon him was when he became the leader for the Valo-Kas. That didn’t last long, with the events at the Conclave.  
   He wasn’t a bad leader, and he knew that. If anything, he had compassion where it needed to be, and he was stern when needed. He could shut out his personal life when it came to work, he was the leader they needed him to be, and he wouldn’t deny them of that. But there were times that it was overwhelming. He was just a man. Just like anyone else. He still had feelings. Death just had a way of bringing old memories back.  
  
   At the silence, Bull knew he was mulling it all over in his head. He was the strongest person he ever knew. Having a little breakdown was hardly anything that would push him back a step. He’d wake up tomorrow and do it all over again—without question! Kaaras was a good Inquisitor (and man) because of that. Because even if he was emotional over something, he’d push through it. He was stronger than he thought. One little cry was nothing to be ashamed of.  
   He gently let go of the hands, if only to pick Kaaras’ chin up and look into his eyes. The crying had stopped, but he still looked tired. Even like this, though, there was something very powerful about the other man. He admired his strength, his courage, his determination, and his fight. Tal-Vashoth farmer or not, Kaaras Adaar was the strongest person he ever knew.  
   “You are the reason these men fight, Kadan. Not because you can save the world, which I know you can, but because it’s an honour to serve you. All this time, and you’ve taken it all on your shoulders without denying any one of us. You look after us, and have compassion others wouldn’t care about in a time like this. But it’s your compassion that makes you stronger.”  
  
   Kaaras felt himself swallow hard, and he pushed Bull away, a boyish laugh leaving him which made him sound much younger. “Stop it, you’re just being silly now.” He was not one to take compliments well. He could flirt up a storm when he was comfortable with someone, but what Bull said was something from a romance novel he’d read, and it made him blush.  
  
   “Hey!” Bull protested, yanking him back so he couldn’t get away. “Silly or not, this old Bull’s got one cute little ram in his grasp.”  
  
   A snort came from the Inquisitor, partly a scoff. He was forced onto his back as Bull pinned him on the bed. His hands went over those thick, masculine arms and he watched him, leaning up to give him a kiss. Somehow, Bull always managed to make it go away. To make him feel stronger than he really was. He wouldn’t speak of seeing him die. He couldn’t.  
  
   Bull leant into the needy lips, nipping at Kaaras’ bottom lip before pulling back. “Hmm, like that, do you?” he growled, it rumbling through his chest.  
  
   “Thank you, Bull. I needed this. You.”  
  
   These were words The Bull was still getting used to, but each and every time he heard it, he felt a sense of satisfaction and pleasure that he enjoyed. “You’ve always got me, Kadan. You can talk my ear off if I can give you a bit of empathy.”  
  
   “Just don’t go around telling everyone I cried…”  
  
   “Oh, I’ve already got plans on telling Krem in the morning—ooh!” He chuckled as Kaaras hit him on the gut. “Of course not, Kadan, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He hit his forehead into the others, giving a smirk and kissing his nose. He was much less stressed knowing Kaaras would sleep easier for the remainder of the night. Plus, he already had plans on tiring him out.

**Author's Note:**

> What you're going through  
> It is real to you  
> But your mind plus your heart makes two
> 
> Look into my eyes  
> What do you see?  
> I'm someone who can show empathy  
> When your mind's clouded by your heart  
> It's not easy to see what's real n' what's not  
> I give you my empathy ~ Dead By April--Empathy
> 
> I finally managed to write down the scene of how Kaaras' dad died. But I also wanted some Bull/Kaaras fluff and lovings because these guys are just so cute <3
> 
> Bull really doesn't care that Kaaras had a little breakdown, in fact, he thinks it's healthy considering his own breakdown in the past and being re-educated by the Qun. My headcanon is he actually got pretty suicidal over it, which is also why he's a lot more chillax nowadays compared to back then. So he's very open minded, and he'd never see Kaaras as less of a person because he has emotional moments. In fact, he really embraces the fact that he DOES and will show them. He probably couldn't stand if someone was secretive about their emotions.
> 
> I also wanted to shed some light on the fact that we can't forget that the inquisitor saw his friends DIE if you took the Mage side in the game. So yeah... that ALWAYS really got to me, and I always felt incredibly awful for Kaaras having to go through that and not really be able to talk about it with others but Dorian. Another reason he and Dorian would be quite close.
> 
> Anyway, I'm waffling! Enjoy <3
> 
> Dragon Age @ BioWare.


End file.
